


Aimless Origins

by Anonymous



Series: Useless19's Prompt Fills [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gore, M/M, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23412268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It was never a good idea to listen to Misfire.Or: Fulcrum finds out his boyfriend is the secret MegaStar sparkling from hell.
Relationships: Fulcrum/Misfire (Transformers), Megatron/Starscream (Transformers)
Series: Useless19's Prompt Fills [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684114
Comments: 22
Kudos: 133
Collections: Maccadam's Back Room First Run





	Aimless Origins

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Maccadams1](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Maccadams1) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>   
> Misfire is excited to have Fulcrum meet his parents after centuries of no contact. Fulcrum is not prepared.
> 
> Aka: Misfire is the secret megastar sparkling from hell, unknown to all but himself.
> 
> **AN:** This fill owes most of its existence to me watching my way through Backwardz Compatible play Resident Evil 2. I can't help but read Misfire's lines in MTMTE in Miles Luna's voice (it's honestly a crime that he's voicing other Transformers in the new series).
> 
> It doesn't quite fit the prompt completely, as not even Misfire knows exactly who his parents are, but hopefully it's close enough?

Fulcrum should really know not to go along with Misfire's ideas by now. They were always obviously terrible things like:

"Hey, let's see if this extremely volatile engex I just bought makes Spinister get even dumber."

Or:

"Why don't we check it out anyway? Every culture has _some_ spooky taboo about graveyards, the warnings signs aren't going to be about anything serious."

Or even:

"So, I _think_ this guy tried to mug me by offering to sell me his blaster. How about we make him give it to us for free?"

Every one of them, a bad idea.

And yet, here Fulcrum was, holed up in a dingy bar backroom, hoping that the rusty barrels he was leaning against didn't contain anything corrosive. The bartender had taken one look at the two Cybertronians and had sneered something uncomplimentary under his tentacles before showing them in here. The bar didn't serve mechanicals and Fulcrum wondered what kind of dirt Misfire had on the barkeep that meant they'd gotten the room at all.

Misfire perched on one of the barrels, thrusters clonking a rhythmic _clank-clank-clank_ against the (hopefully) solid steel.

Fulcrum wondered how long before he kicked through the barrel and got suspicious fluid all over his pedes. He wasn't going to help clean it off.

"Can you explain again," Fulcrum tried for the third time. "With small words that make sense."

"I'm forged," Misfire said.

"I get that bit. Why does that mean we're here without the rest of the Scavengers?"

"I don't mean hot spot-forged." Misfire jumped down from the barrel and waved a datapad in Fulcrum's face barely long enough for Fulcrum to read " _CNA matching_ " before he paced away. "I'm _proper_ forged."

"Like out of a gestation tank?" Fulcrum straightened up. "I thought that was a myth."

"Nope," Misfire said, popping the _p_. "I never knew my creators — I was born at the tipping point of the war and I bet they wanted to keep poor little innocent me out of harm's way. But I've got proof now and they'll have to tell me."

Fulcrum had gotten stuck on trying to imagine Misfire as _innocent_ as well as _little_ — _poor_ was easy to picture — and felt like he'd missed a step in Misfire's plan again.

"That's all very interesting, but what does it have to do with us being here?" Fulcrum asked.

"Didn't I say? I invited them to meet us," Misfire said.

" _Us?_ " Fulcrum spluttered. "Both of us? What do I have to do with this?"

Misfire looked wounded. "You're my partner. Why wouldn't I want you to meet my parents?"

 _Partner_ was a funny way of saying _fragging occasionally_ and _putting up with Misfire when the rest of the Scavengers had had enough_ and _spending time together talking about nothing_ and —

Oh, frag, they were partners.

While Fulcrum was still reeling from that revelation, Misfire continued talking.

"Krok said I could have a big family dinner with all the guys later, but he didn't want to be in the middle of a 'big, sappy Misfire family reunion' and Crankcase said the same thing, but less politely. And I'm not sure bringing Spinister or Grimlock along would really help, not to mention that getting them through the door would be a pain. So, it's just us two." Misfire looked hopefully at Fulcrum. "That's okay, right? You're not going to insult my creators and make them regret they ever had me or anything, are you?"

The last bit came out a bit plaintive, like when they'd both had a couple of good overloads and their late-night conversation had found its way to more sensitive places than either of them were comfortable with.

Fulcrum shrugged. "That depends on how many overloads you'll give me later."

"I will be the most dedicated interface machine you have ever met," Misfire promised, deadly serious. Then he pulled a face. "Now I'm going to be thinking about interface when we meet my creators. Gross. Fulcrum, why the frag do I even put up with you?"

"Must be my stunning good looks."

"Yeah, that's totally it." Misfire stretched his wings and hopped on the balls of his pedes. "Argh, why can't they hurry up? Waiting is killing me."

A knock sounded on the door. Short and sharp and weirdly important-sounding.

Misfire shrieked and jumped behind a stack of barrels. He must've been more nervous than Fulcrum had thought.

"One sec!" Fulcrum called. He crouched down to Misfire's level. "Misfire! What are you doing?"

"I'm hiding, what does it look like I'm doing?" Misfire hissed back.

"You big sparkling." Fulcrum tried and failed to pull Misfire out. Stupid heavy jet. "Weren't you just saying how excited you were to meet them?"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up! Just… just tell them I couldn't make it," Misfire said desperately.

"It's only your creators," Fulcrum said. "Not Optimus Prime. Come on."

The door opened. A seeker under a cloak walked in, having to turn sideways like Misfire had to get their wings through the doorway. Red optics under the hood caught Fulcrum in a furious glare as they kicked the door shut behind them.

"You have five seconds to hand over the information and prove to me that all copies are destroyed before I make you wish you'd never survived, K-class."

Fulcrum gulped because that voice — that screech of a voice that every Decepticon knew — that voice belonged to _Starscream_.

And indeed, when the seeker pulled back their hood to glare properly at Fulcrum, that was _Starscream's_ pointed polished faceplates. _Starscream's_ sharp blue claws pointed threateningly at Fulcrum.

No wonder Misfire had hidden.

"Uh, what exactly is going on?" Fulcrum said.

Starscream looked down his olfactory sensor. "The information. Hand it over."

"Misfire?" Fulcrum said desperately.

Misfire slunk out from behind the barrels, looking sheepish. Starscream levelled his null-rays at him, clearly seeing him as the bigger threat, which, fair.

"So… I might have lied a tiny amount," Misfire said.

Fulcrum face-palmed. _Nothing_ good ever came out of those words. Starscream charged up his weaponry and Misfire quickly held his hands up.

"Not completely!" Misfire tried his best to look innocent. "Look, it's complicated."

"Then _un_ complicate it," Starscream snarled.

"So, I might've said I had information on a sparkling you created a while ago," Misfire said quickly. "And I do. Sort of. I, wow, I honestly didn't expect it to be _you_."

Pieces slotted together in Fulcrum's head, forming a picture he didn't like. It was one thing to meet your friend's — partner's, oh jeez, your _partner's_ — creators. It was something else entirely to find out one of them ruled Cybertron.

"Don't think I won't kill you just because we happen to share code." Starscream had obviously reached the same conclusion as Fulcrum and looked even less happy about it. "Who else knows about this?"

"So far, just us," Misfire said blithely. Fulcrum coughed. Panic jolted Misfire's wings high. "But— but the rest of my crew know where we are and they'll be looking for us if I don't check in with them."

Starscream glanced at Fulcrum, unimpressed. _We_ , Misfire had said, and now Starscream had marked Fulcrum as a potential lever to use against Misfire. Oh slag.

"You have proof," Starscream said. "Give it to me."

Misfire clutched his datapad so hard it creaked in protest. "My… my sire," he said.

"Doesn't matter," Starscream said savagely.

"You said he'd be here," Misfire said. "That was the deal."

Fulcrum wondered what poor schmuck it was going to be. What idiot had _Starscream_ let clang him enough to produce a sparkling with?

Misfire was losing control of the situation. Fulcrum almost wished he had his payload still intact to help him bluff and stepped forward. Starscream's null-rays immediately swung to point at him instead.

"New deal?" Fulcrum offered. "Either you produce Misfire's sire or we walk with the info. If you try anything… _boom_."

"I have an indestructible spark, you moron," Starscream said.

"It's going to be a pain to get back to Cybertron to get a new frame when you're just a spark though," Fulcrum said. "Especially since you went into so much trouble to keep this quiet."

Starscream's optics narrowed so much he was practically squinting. Misfire fidgeted at Fulcrum's side but didn't contradict his claims. Despite their many, many, _many_ flaws, the Scavengers were good at having your back in situations like these.

"He's coming," Starscream finally said. "But I don't want to see him. I want the proof and I want to _leave_."

"Right," Misfire said, voice tight.

Oh, yeah, he'd been hoping for a big happy family he could take out for dinner with the Scavengers later. Fulcrum squeezed his hand, not caring that Starscream was watching them with more than a little disgust. Misfire squeezed back.

"Okay," Misfire said. "Okay. I want to make a temporary copy, to show him, but you can have the info."

Starscream opened his mouth to say something, then flinched violently. He aimed his weapons at the door and a few moments later, Fulcrum heard a heavy _thud, thud, thud_ of mechanical pedesteps. Some kind of tank, judging by the weight.

What kind of crazy paranoid systems was Starscream running on that he'd heard it so early?

The door opened. The mech on the other side made an annoyed sound, then freaking _Megatron_ squeezed himself through the doorway.

Fulcrum stepped back, dragging Misfire with him by the hand. Starscream had backed up into the wall and his wings were twitching rapidly under his cloak. It wasn't exactly an ideal space for flight-frames to fight in.

Megatron surveyed the room, taking in the gathering, the barrels, and every last suspicious stain on the floor.

"Misfire. Fulcrum." Megatron nodded to each of them then looked at Starscream. "Starscream. To what do I owe this dubious pleasure?"

Something in Fulcrum lit up in delight at being recognised by Megatron, even as every one of his other systems blared alarms at the fact that _Megatron knew who he was_.

"Close the door!" Starscream snapped, voice shrill. "Didn't you listen to the part where I said _covert?_ "

Megatron did so, never taking his attention off of Starscream. It was amazing how he made that seem like a threat.

Did Fulcrum think it was amazing? He meant _terrifying_.

"So, here's the thing," Misfire said, never able to stop talking even when it was sensible to do so. "I'm sort of freaking out a bit right now and might not make much sense, but I got some testing done and it sort of seems to be the case that Starscream is kind of my carrier? And —"

"This is all your fault," Starscream hissed at Megatron, interrupting.

Fulcrum took another step back, not wanting to be in the middle of a Decepticon High Command spat. Though Megatron was wearing an Autobot brand now and that was just weird.

"I have better things to do than listen to your baseless accusations, Starscream," Megatron said. He looked at Misfire, who shrank under his gaze. "Explain."

"Well, like I was saying, I think Starscream is my carrier?" Misfire said, definitely more a question than a statement. His digits were digging into Fulcrum's hand so hard he was going to leave dents. "And he said — Starscream, I mean — he said he was going to contact my sire and I'm guessing that means that's you? Lord Megatron, sir?"

Fulcrum didn't envy Misfire in the slightest. The old, familiar fear paralysis was creeping around the edges of Fulcrum's plating; if it hadn't been for Misfire's death-grip he probably would've run screaming or passed out by now.

"I see," Megatron said. He glanced at Starscream.

"The timing works," Starscream said through clenched denta. "The week after the Senate…"

"I remember."

Nothing was said for what felt like an eternity — seriously, Fulcrum began to wonder if the Scavenger's recent brush with the time dilation Squiglets of Scentuna III had affected them more than they'd thought.

"So…" Misfire said into the silence. "This isn't working out at all like I'd planned. We'll just go and —"

"Don't be ridiculous," Starscream snapped. He forced a smile and came to stand next to Misfire, with his wings flared at just the right height to block Megatron's line of sight and piss him off. "We've only just met and you haven't told me _anything_ about yourself. What sort of creator would I be if I didn't even know you existed until now?"

"Starscream," Megatron rumbled.

Starscream's optic twitched, but he continued to examine Misfire, tutting at the shade of his paint and the wear on his left wing (which Fulcrum had mentioned the other day in berth and gotten whacked upside the helm for his observation).

"You'll do," Starscream said. "Clearly my coding was superior — hardly a surprise given the _other_ doner."

Misfire brightened and, obnoxious grin firmly in place, pulled Fulcrum forward.

"This is my partner," Misfire said like he was presenting a prize turbofox.

"Nice to meet you," Fulcrum managed, which, jeez, sounded stupid when you said it to _Megatron and Starscream_.

"I thought you were more cunning than this, Starscream," Megatron said, ignoring Fulcrum. "Ruling Cybertron must have slowed your processor."

"It's not like you to start on the insults so quickly," Starscream sneered. "Captaining an _Autobot_ ship must have dulled your wits. How many attempts on your life have you fended off since your joke of a parole?"

"It will be one more when I leave now."

"I didn't squeeze a newspark with your fat helm out of my gestation tank for you to say I'm making it up!"

"My frame at the time was made to be sterile," Megatron said. "It was another of your dalliances from that time, no doubt."

Starscream puffed up like an angry beastformer. "Flyhigh, show him the proof."

Fulcrum had a moment to wonder who the hell _Flyhigh_ was, then Misfire stepped forward, datapad outstretched to Megatron.

Right, yeah, no one was named _Misfire_ at birth.

Megatron took the 'pad and glanced at the contents, not letting Starscream out of his view for even a second. He snorted.

"I notice they don't have a confirmed identity for either creator. Just your coding data — which is shared by many other Seekers — and some random statistics that don't match mine," Megatron said. "This is a waste of my time and I'm ashamed at both your lack of deception and my decision to be here."

"The spark signatures match," Starscream said.

"My spark signature isn't a matter of public record and, conveniently for you, it's currently unscannable due to my frame." Megatron checked his chrono. "I have to be back before Magnus finishes reprimanding the shopkeepers' lack of fire safety in town and notices I'm missing."

Magnus, like Ultra Magnus? Torque must've missed, poor sod.

"The last thing I want is to be found in Decepticon company with my former second in command — who should be on Cybertron," Megatron continued.

"I'll be back soon enough. And I'll be taking _my son_ with me," Starscream snapped.

"Now wait a —" Misfire started.

" _Enough_ , Starscream," Megatron said, harsh enough that everyone flinched. Megatron pinched the bridge of his olfactory sensor and ex-vented sharply. "I'm going to do the sensible thing and remove myself from this farce of a plot."

"Wait." Misfire stumbled forward. "It's not a trick, I swear."

Megatron glared at him and Misfire shrunk back. Fulcrum wanted to do something, say something, anything, but he couldn't. Why couldn't it have been anyone except Megatron?

Megatron opened the door and paused. For a second, Fulcrum thought he was trying to figure out how to get through it while maintaining his dignity. Then something lunged in. Something organic and sticky and with far too many teeth.

Megatron yelled as it gooed itself to his shin. Starscream and Misfire both shrieked and jumped back, weapons bristling — huh, family resemblance there after all — and Fulcrum threw himself behind a stack of barrels.

"What the frag is that?" Starscream shrieked. "And will it kill him if we leave it alone?"

There was a wet, organic _splat_ and the squelching noises the thing had been making slowed to a stop. Fulcrum peeked out from behind the barrels to see that Megatron had squashed the thing with a barrel and was grimacing as he tried to figure out how to get its remains off his leg without touching it.

"Fragile," Megatron commented.

"Oh slag," Misfire said. "Oh, fragging slag on a stick. Fulcrum, doesn't that kinda look like one of those things guarding that graveyard we hit up last month?"

"Scrap," Fulcrum agreed.

"What does that mean?" Starscream said. "Are there more of them? Are they chasing you in particular?"

"Not _us_ , precisely," Misfire said.

"And where do you think you're going?" Starscream snapped at Megatron, who had just forced himself through the doorway.

"Back to the _Lost Light_ ," Megatron said. "Try again when you've got a better plot."

The door slammed shut behind him. Misfire's wings drooped.

"See why I didn't want to meet him?" Starscream said. "Useless, blockheaded, stupid, old fool."

Fulcrum squeezed Misfire's hand. Misfire squeezed back distractedly. He was looking at the pasted remains of the graveyard monster.

"Weren't there a lot more of them last time?" Misfire said.

"They're probably after the totem we scavenged," Fulcrum said. "I'll give Krok a heads up."

"Yeah, about that…" Misfire said slowly.

"Misfire!"

"What are you blathering about?" Starscream said, suspicious optics darting between them and the rest of the room. "Am I in danger or not?"

As if in answer, the back wall burst open and spewed forth a horde of lumbering organic undead. One of them had a very familiar knife still stuck in its collapsed chest — Fulcrum remembered putting it there himself.

"Oh scrap! Oh scrap! Oh scrap!" Misfire scrambled back, dragging Fulcrum with him.

"Just give it back to them!" Fulcrum shouted.

"I would if I still had it!"

Starscream shortcutted what was about to be a loud argument by charging up his null-rays and firing into the mob.

"No, wait —!" Fulcrum shouted, but it was too late.

The violet energy shots hit the front-liners dead on. Fulcrum and Misfire flung themselves to the side in a clatter of armour, as the undead organics started swelling with pus.

_Squelch!_

Starscream shrieked as the whole first wave exploded, showering black goo and organic debris over the entire room.

"Next time we find a graveyard with warning signs put up for miles around, we _leave it alone!_ " Fulcrum yelped, kicking goo off his pede.

"Like you weren't first over the fence." Misfire cocked his gun.

"I wasn't the one who set them off though."

"If you both don't stop talking right now, I'll explode you next!" Starscream hissed.

Fulcrum looked at Misfire. Misfire looked at Fulcrum. Then they both looked at Starscream.

Starscream might be kinda scary, but helm to pede in foul-smelling organic goo he didn't cut quite so ruthless a figure as usual. Fulcrum had to dig his fingers into his transformations seams to not laugh at the slow _drip-drip-drip_ of goo off the end of Starscream's olfactory.

"You have a ship, don't you," Starscream said. "Take me there — and so help me if you don't have a functioning solvent spray."

"I think there's maybe one," Fulcrum said.

Misfire grabbed Starscream's arm, heedless of the goo and pulled him along. "C'mon. I hated it when I got that stuff on me. We'll find a way to clean you off, even if it means using the _WAP's_ fuel and a match — that was a joke!" he added quickly at Starscream's glare.

Having been on the receiving end of Misfire's patented _burn-and-shine_ , Fulcrum knew it was _not_ a joke, but elected to stay quiet and let Starscream find that out for himself.

"So…" Misfire said. "Megatron?"

There was a sizzle of frying goo as Starscream's face heated.

"Didn't see that coming," Misfire continued.

"He was charismatic, once," Starscream ground out.

The jets had longer legs than Fulcrum. Not by much, but enough that if he didn't jog to keep up he got left behind. Which was why he was the first to notice the creeping tendrils of greenish mist creep over his pedes.

The exact same greenish mist that had been so abundant during their graveyard robbery.

Fulcrum tripped, too busy looking over his shoulder to see where he was putting his pedes. When he got back up, the mist had thickened substantially and he couldn't see Misfire or Starscream anymore.

When he realised he couldn't even _hear_ them, he began to panic.

Fulcrum stumbled through the fog.

"Misfire?" Fulcrum cupped his hands around his mouth. " _Misf—_ "

A big servo slapped itself over his entire face, cutting off his shout. A big, scuffed, _black_ servo. Fulcrum didn't need to feel the solid wall of a chest compartment against his back to know who had grabbed him.

"Quiet," Megatron hissed. "Stay still."

Not a problem. Fulcrum didn't even manage to shake as… _something_ coiled its way out of the fog. Something big and sinuous and still somehow covered in teeth, despite not having a clear mouth. He didn't remember seeing _that_ when they'd been at the graveyard.

It rasped along the ground, looking for something to chew. It didn't seem to have any eyes, so it kept bumping into things.

A _ping_ hit Fulcrum's communications array. The request was accepted by a subroutine Fulcrum didn't even know he had before he could decide for himself.

" _It tracks noise_ ," Megatron said over inter-Decepticon communication frequency — which was probably something he should've given up when becoming an Autobot come to think of it. " _Where are Starscream and Misfire?_ "

" _Heading to our ship. We got separated_."

" _Where is your ship?_ " Fulcrum sent Megatron the coordinates as the slithering thing moved closer, scenting the air. " _Be silent and go back the way it came._ "

" _Yes, sir_ ," Fulcrum replied.

Megatron slowly released him. Fulcrum fired up his infra-red sensors and crept away from Megatron. The creature was warm, but it had plenty of slithering appendages that were cool enough to blend into the background and Fulcrum nearly stepped on them twice.

So it looked like Megatron hadn't gone back to his ship and left them all to a sticky end. Fulcrum hoped, for Misfire's sake — and his own because little was worse than being stuck in the _Weak Anthropomorphic Principle_ with a sulking Misfire — that Megatron thought there was some truth in Misfire's claim after all. 

Misfire must've gone this way. Fulcrum brushed a dangling wire out of his way and tried to peer through the fog to spot a hyperactive jet.

"Wha—!"

The dangling wire turned out to _not_ be a wire.

A tendril of organic sinew thwipped around Fulcrum's wrist and yanked him off the ground. He let out a yell before he could stop himself.

The creature that had been sniffing around Megatron gave a _screeee!_ and thumped toward Fulcrum instead. It was moving a lot faster now it had a target.

Fulcrum tugged at the sinew around his wrist with his free hand desperately. It held tight.

Oh no. He was going to die here. Oh no.

The creature appeared out of the fog, eyeless face pointed directly at Fulcrum — and oh, look at that, it _did_ have a mouth. It coiled, preparing to spring.

" _Graaargh!_ " Grimlock came hurtling through the fog, fist at the ready.

The creature pulled back with another _screeee!_ but it was too slow. Grimlock punched it so hard his arm went in up to the elbow. Goo burst out when he pulled his hand back, green and toxic. It flailed and screeched again, blindly attacking.

"Hey there." Misfire strolled out of the mist and grinned up at Fulcrum. "Hang around here often?"

"That's not even the saying, idiot," Fulcrum said. "Get me down."

"I'm hurt, Fulcrum. Hurt in my goo-covered plating," Misfire said. He pulled out a blaster and laughed when Fulcrum flinched. "C'mon, don't you trust me."

"You, sometimes. Your aim, never."

Misfire laughed again and handed up a knife instead. Fulcrum stabbed at the sinew until it released him and landed heavily on his pedes. He looked at his wrist. Eww.

"All good?" Misfire asked.

"All good." Fulcrum gave him a quick kiss on a clean spot. "Thanks for the save."

"Then we'll call a surprise parent visit even?" Misfire said hopefully.

"Sure, why not."

"Awesome." Misfire waved over Fulcrum's shoulder. "Hey, Grimlock! Nice job!"

Fulcrum turned to find Grimlock curb-stomping the mushed remains of the creature. Well, that was definitely dead and not coming back. Hopefully.

Grimlock looked up and offered a servo covered in organic gunk when Misfire approached.

"Thanks, Grimlock," Misfire said awkwardly. He grinned. "You did good. Saved my stupid boyfriend and everything."

Grimlock stayed silent, but he seemed happy. Misfire wasn't worried, so Fulcrum wasn't worried.

"There you are," Krok said, venting harshly as he reached them. Crankcase and Spinister were shortly behind him. "It helps if you don't go running off ahead of your rescue team."

"Hey, Grimlock was the rescue team," Misfire said. "You guys were just slowing us down."

"Last time we needed a _plan_ ," Krok said. "A plan that wasn't just: _point Grimlock at them until they stop_."

"Guys," said Spinister.

"It worked, we got Fulcrum back," Misfire argued. "We can do a proper plan now if you really want."

Krok just sighed and rubbed his face mask.

"Why bother?" Crankcase said. "The _WAP's_ in one piece, we can get out of here and leave all this not-staying-dead-when-they-should organic nonsense alone."

"Guys," Spinister said again.

"They followed us here and we don't know how," Krok said. "We need to stop this before they follow us again and we end up with an even messier — what _is_ it, Spinister?"

Spinister was standing on his toes, frowning into the mist.

"There's some old-fashioned Kaonite courting about to happen," Spinister said.

"What? Someone's being killed?" Krok moved forward and peered around a pile of rubble. "Scrap!"

Fulcrum joined him and was treated to the sight of Megatron and Starscream mid-argument.

A pile of corpse parts were scattered around the immediate area. Starscream was sporting much less goo this time — though he clearly hadn't given Megatron a heads up on the whole exploding undead thing and he was splattered from the chest down.

"— why even come back?" Starscream was snapping. "Haven't you accused me of lying enough for one day?"

"The thing is, I couldn't work out your angle," Megatron said.

Starscream stiffened.

"I'll admit, I haven't always been able to completely predict you," Megatron continued. "Yet this feels so different from your usual schemes. What's your expected payoff? Why would you do this? Experience has taught me to find those answers or risk death."

"Does there have to be an angle?" Starscream asked, a shade too soft to be snide.

"With you? Always."

Starscream's wings fluttered and Fulcrum knew Misfire well enough to know preening when he saw it. Misfire made a squeaking sound so high-pitched it was nearly inaudible next to Fulcrum when Megatron offered his hand to Starscream.

"You've been dying to tell me," Megatron said. "You always are with your plots."

"Well, since you asked…" Starscream leant forward and whispered something to Megatron — something flirty? Fulcrum was going to say it was flirty by the look on Megatron's face.

Or maybe it was a death-threat and that's how Megatron got his rocks off. Actually, that made too much sense and Fulcrum had to forcibly stop his processor following that track.

Starscream finished what he was saying and stepped back. Megatron nodded, then looked directly at the rubble the Scavengers were hiding behind.

"Well, it's been nice knowing none of you," Crankcase said.

"Oh hush." Misfire stood up and waved. "You guys wanna meet my creators?"

"No," Krok said, optics darting between Misfire, Starscream, and Megatron. "You're joking." He looked pleadingly at Fulcrum. "Tell me he's joking."

Fulcrum just shrugged helplessly. Krok rebooted his optics, clearly hoping that this was a hallucination brought on from inhaling too much zombie goo.

"Hey, creators!" Misfire said. "This is the rest of my squad. Our leader, Krok —"

Krok gave a terrified nod.

"— Crankcase —"

Crankcase gave a twitch that might've been a nod. Maybe the facial paralysis had set in again.

"— Spinister —"

Spinister started to raise his gun but Fulcrum grabbed it before he could shoot at Megatron because his badge looked wrong and got them all killed.

"— and Grimlock!"

"An Autobot?" Starscream sneered.

"The war is over, Starscream," Megatron said.

"I suppose you've made it all meaningless anyway," Starscream said, shooting a look of pure venom at Megatron's Autobot brand.

"What is wrong with him?" Megatron asked, frowning at Grimlock.

"He's been through some stuff," Misfire said diplomatically. "We're helping him get better."

"Yeah, like participling the past," Spinister added.

Megatron and Starscream were too well-versed at dealing with Decepticons to react negatively to Spinister's unique way of looking at the world, but they both took on a carefully neutral expression.

"We have a qualified psychotherapist on board the _Lost Light_ ," Megatron offered. "Perhaps he would be better suited to rehabilitating Grimlock."

"Or there's always plenty of prison cells to drop brain-dead Autobots in," Starscream said.

"No." Misfire planted himself in front of Grimlock, arms outstretched. "You're not taking him and throwing him back in some Autobot prison. He needs help. And, hey, maybe my help isn't the best, but at least I'm trying, okay? I'm trying."

Megatron smiled. Not a creepy smile, a genuine one. He put his hand on Misfire's shoulder.

"I believe you," he said.

Misfire stared at him, optics wider than Fulcrum had ever seen.

"Really?" Misfire squeaked.

"Really."

Misfire flung his arms around Megatron. Panic flew across Megatron's face before he realised it was just a hug and tentatively patted Misfire on the helm.

"Do you need… support?" Megatron asked awkwardly. "My assets have been seized, but Magnus should be persuadable." Megatron's communicator beeped. "Ah, speaking of…"

Megatron stepped back to answer the call. His side of the conversation consisted of a lot of "I didn't leave you behind on purpose, Magnus" and "I can find my own way back" and "Yes, Magnus, I know there's an outbreak happening, I'll be careful".

There wasn't just irritation in Starscream's optics as he watched Megatron walk away a few steps. Fulcrum resolutely ignored it and leant against Misfire's side.

Starscream turned his attention back to Misfire and tutted. "You'll need to be reframed. And new paint. Perhaps an incident can be arranged to introduce you to Cybertron properly."

"So, here's the thing, I don't really want to go back to Cybertron just yet," Misfire said.

Starscream made a noise of disbelief.

"Really," Misfire said.

"Let's not be hasty about it," Crankcase said. "You'll put us up somewhere nice, right?"

"I'll be sure to give you the accommodation you deserve," Starscream said.

"That usually means a rubbish tip," Fulcrum sighed.

"Yeah, we'll take our chances scavenging," Krok said.

Megatron reentered the conversation with a pinched expression.

"I have to meet with Ultra Magnus and my co-captain," he said. "Apparently Rodimus found something to pacify some of the organics in the back of a pawn shop. I have to help Magnus supervise the cleanup."

"I made plans for dinner," Misfire said brightly. "I bet I can get them to put in an extra chair or two. That is, assuming the zombies haven't taken out the restaurant yet."

Fulcrum was pretty sure that Misfire's surprising generosity was because he'd been planning on running out on the bill. It probably wasn't going to pan out if _Ultra Magnus_ was going to be right there.

Maybe if it was just Rodimus Prime he'd get away with it. Fulcrum had _heard_ things.

"Go on then," Starscream said. "I'll have Flyhigh all to myself."

"Actually it's —" Misfire started.

"Conniver," Megatron said to Starscream, optics narrowed.

Starscream's wings hitched higher, preening again. Krok made a strangled sound next to Fulcrum, clearly seeing the truth finally. Fulcrum gave him another shrug.

Misfire grinned at them with Starscream's cunning and Megatron's determination. Fulcrum stood no chance. He snuggled into Misfire's side — gooing him plenty as he did so — and braced himself for what was going to come next.

Zombies, a family dinner, and Decepticon High Command _flirting_.

Maybe it _did_ explain Misfire.

**Author's Note:**

> And during dinner Misfire notices Ultra Magnus has built up a report with Megatron that's only going to get in the way of his creators getting back together and enlists the Scavengers (and Rodimus, who's having way too much fun with the whole situation) to interfere. But that's a tale for another time.


End file.
